Cleanse My Heart and Soul
by ImpalaLove
Summary: Set between 5x14 and 5x15. "Unquenchable thirst. Like being thrown in the middle of the desert for at least a week kind of thirst."


**This story is set between 5x14 & 5x15, right after Sam is infected by Famine and drinks demon blood again.**

* * *

**Cleanse My Heart and Soul**

Unquenchable thirst.

Like being thrown in the middle of the desert for at least a week kind of thirst.

Tongue like sandpaper. Even the moisture in my eyes is gone, carried away with the hope of survival I still had only a few hours ago. That's gone now, replaced with an agony that far surpasses anything I've ever felt before. It trickles into every corner of my mind, my body. I'm shaking uncontrollably. I want the screaming to stop and then I realize it's my own, ripping a gaping hole in my already ragged throat as the inhuman noises continue to tumble out. I bite down hard on my tongue, tasting blood, but at least the screaming has stopped, replaced by the unhindered whimpers and moans that still escape through cracked lips.

The coughing starts next and I didn't think it could get any worse than the already crippling pain, but it has. I cough and I shudder and my head explodes behind my eyes, stars shooting across my blurred vision and colliding with one another in a beautiful display of color and light.

If this is the road to death, please just let it come. Please let it _end_.

The gurgled screams have started up once more, though I don't remember giving my vocal chords permission. Regardless, my cries reveal only one coherent thought as I thrash against the restraints I've only just become aware of.

_Dean._

_DeanDeanDean. _

Over and over I scream my brother's name, praying for his help, his presence, anything.

_Please Dean. _

_Please bring me away from all this. Save me like you always do. Please._

I don't know how long I lay there screaming. I don't know how long it takes me to come back to myself, but when I do, it's as if the world has dulled around me. As if a shade has been pulled across my eyes, transforming my surroundings into dim shades of what were once vibrant colors. My breath hitches and I pull restlessly against the cuffs that lock me to the panic room bed, claustrophobia setting in.

I try to call out for my brother once more, to tell him that it's over. But instead my voice catches and I choke on his name, jackknifing off the bed as my body seizes one last time. I retch violently, spewing red.

And then it's over. Really over this time. I collapse back onto the bed, eyes watering with relief. I'm about to call out again, but he's somehow already there next to me, his fingers fumbling uncharacteristically with the locks that still hold me down. He's talking to me as he works, his lips moving too fast for me to understand.

But eventually the fog clears enough that I'm able to pick out the words. To realize that it's more of a chant.

"...sorry. I'm so sorry Sammy. God, I'm sorry. Please, Sam. I'm sorry."

Over and over he mumbles the same string of words, mostly to himself. Finally unlocking the last cuff that circles my wrist, he pulls me up into a sitting position on the bed and immediately begins checking me over, wincing when he sees the blood that stains my shirt. I'm still shaking, soaked in sweat that is probably more demon blood residue than anything else. The thought sickens me and I lurch forward, almost falling off the bed if not for Dean's steady grip on my shoulder.

"Easy Sam, easy," he mutters, rubbing small circles into my back.

He continues his inspection after a moment, but I notice he won't meet my eyes, won't linger on my face for too long. Finally, I can't take it anymore.

"Dean?" I whisper, hating how unsure I sound. How broken. Dean tightens his hold on my shoulder and squeezes his eyes shut, as if my voice had actually struck out at him.

"I'm sorry Sammy. I'm so sorry..." His voice cracks on my name, and I watch as a single tear manages to slip past the wavering defenses he still has left standing.

"Dean," I say, shaking my head, "It's okay. I'm okay. Just look at me man. Please just look at me."

I need to see my Dean's eyes. I need to know that we can get past this, that we can somehow sort through all this mingled guilt and blame and find a way to keep going.

And I need Dean to see _my_ eyes. To realize that I've not only forgiven him for locking me up in the panic room for a second time, but that I'm _grateful_. Grateful as all hell to have someone to pull me back from the edge; to do whatever it takes to keep me human. It's what we've always done for each other, and as my brother finally lifts his eyes to meet my gaze, I know that today is no different.

* * *

**Leave a review if you have time, and thanks for reading! **


End file.
